#i wrote it at like midnight

[annabellelupin]

a short angsty dorlene fic id title if i could come up with one and didn't suck so much at doing so

imma bout to make some of yall cry (hopefully)

tw: blood, character death

As much as she tried, the salty tears wouldn't stop flowing down Dorcas's face. She covered her mouth to stiffle the sound of the sobbing, but the others surrounding her could still hear her pain. The room was silent other than the sound of sniffles and cries. No one dared speak a word, not that the shock would let them.

Crimson blood stained the white carpet beneath her, still sticky and wet. Dorcas couldn't have cared in the slightest in that moment of the red substance now covering her palms and knees. It was much more tame compared to what laid in front of her.

Marlene was still, her deep blue eyes usually so bright and full of life now milky. Just below her collarbone, red blood stained her torn shirt, yet to dry just as the blood carpet beneath her.

'This- this has to be a dream- some nightmare! This isn't happening, this isn't happening-' Dorcas thought to herself. 'It wasn't supposed to end like this.'

The others with her silently agreed to give Dorcas some time alone, and one by one, exited the small home, leaving her time to grieve alone.

Now given some privacy, Dorcas bent over her lover's body in agony. All of Marlene's beautiful features Dorcas loved so much about her all seemed so dull and corrupt. Her soft lips, her blonde hair, her usually bright and blushing cheeks all now had a dreary look to them.

Slowly, Dorcas lowered her face to her Marlene's, and placed a soft, melancholy kiss upon her lips. There was no fire, no passion, no joy behind the kiss, but instead there was regret, disbelief, and most of all, rage and sadness.

To think the two had just been laughing and smiling while planning their perfect little future together a few days before. A future that would now never happen.

Dorcas sat back up and let out a sniffle. As much as it hurt, she gently closed her lover's eyes. She would never see the beautiful, sky blue of those eyes ever again.

As the tears slowed and her vision became a bit more clear, Dorcas noticed that Marlene's right hand was strangely still clenched into a fist. With care, she took the hand into her own and inched open the closed fist.

One sight of what was inside had her uncontrollably sobbing again.

Two matching silver rings were tucked inside of a hastily written note. Each ring had five words etched on their inner side: "Dorky Dorca and Mischief Marls" The nicknames stinged more than they ever had before.

Dorcas examined the rings closely, her recently growing suspicions all but confirmed. Gently, she sat them down on her lap and unfolded the rest of the note they were hidden in.

The sight of the rings wouldn't hurt nearly as much as the words on the paper.

My proposal to Dorca

Is this a proposal? Probably not when I really think about it. Proposals usually refer to when you're asking to marry someone, and well, that's not exaclty what I'm doing here is it? Not that I don't want to, it's just...

Dorcas Meadowes, I love you more than anyone else on this damned Earth. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. I love you more than I could ever put into words! And I know you love me too. You make me feel loved in everything you do. Your words, your smiles, even those little annoyed looks you give me after I've done something stupid. It's not hard to tell you care so much about me.

If I could marry you, I would without any second thoughts or regret. Hell, I'd marry you every single day of each week for the rest of our lives just to prove how much I love you if I could. Unfortunately the world's a fucked up place and we're constantly being told it's wrong for us to love each other. Constantly being told who to love. I promise you if we could, we'd have a little wedding in the forest with all of our friends and close family. I promise you one of us would take the other's last name, or we'd combined our last names to show the world we're together and madly in love. If we could.

I might not be able to offer you some piece of paper saying we're married or a little wedding... or even a name change for that matter, but I can promise I will love you for the rest of my life. I can promise- no I will promise that I will be by yourside during it all, the happy, the sad, the good, and the bad, I will love you through it all. I promise that I will love you to the die that I die.

Dorcas Meadowes, will you spend the rest of our lives with me?

Once finished reading the note, Dorcas quickly noticed that there was something else written on the back of the paper. She fliped it over to find words barely visible, surrounded by drops of blood. The words were messy, clearly quickly written.

Dorcas, I know I said that I wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, but I hadn't realized that that time might be much shorter than I had hoped. Some rat gave away my family's hiding place and Death Eaters are everywhere. My brothers sadly didn't manage to get away. For now, I'm hiding in a closet (ironic isn't it). I'd apparate to safety if I could, but one of the bastards stabbed me, and I really don't have the energy to (nor do I currently have the strength to fight). Dorca, if I don't make it out of this one, just know that I meant it when I said I'd love you until the day I died- no, until the moment I die. Even at death, I will always love you.

Nothing could have prepared her for that.

The tears were coming as quick as they had when Dorcas first saw Marlene lying lifeless on the floor. There are no words strong enough to even begin to express how she felt in that moment.

Dorcas was only certain of one thing now:

She'd make the people that did this to her beloved Marlene pay for their actions, as well as that damned Voldemort. No one, no one whatsoever, was going to do such a thing to her Marls and get away with it. And she would gladly die trying. The thought of her own death honeslty sounded like a blessing to her right about now.

Dorcas had only one thing on her mind: revenge.

And the only decipherable emotions she had were sadness, angry, and regret.

No one was about to stop her.

[limarkova]

Experimental Obsession

Formerly Know as: Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 1.

Next

*Author's note: this was not beta and was written at midnight.

Two years. That's how long you had been struggling to survive in hell. The experiments had been brutal in every way imaginable. In the end they had gotten their goal: a meta human capable of healing any illness or wound, with an extended life span.

However you had come out of it too defiant. Some part of you had clung to the child's hope you're family would swoop in and save you. Sure they were often busy and didn't have time for you, but they had still cared right? There was no way they hadn't noticed you were missing for two years. No they had to be on the case, maybe just waiting for that last clue. A clue you would give them by escaping your captors and spitting in the scientist's face as your family torn their facilities apart. Beside, you were capable of escaping by yourself so who cared that they didn't show up.

The security system at the front gates still recongized your fingerprint and retinas. Walking up the pathway, you admired the gardener's work. It looked so different from when you were last here. There was a bubbling in your stomach. Imagines flash in you mind of your brothers being so happy to see you.

Dick with his wide smile, wrapping you in his arms. He would check for injuries and you two would finally have that movie night he promised two years ago. Jason would demand answers and swear to make whoever hurt you pay. You knew he would do it to, all so you could sleep easy knowing they couldn’t hurt you anymore. Tim would listen before getting to work. He would ensure everyone connected to the experiments would be destroyed. Hunt down their suppliers and financial providers. They would protect and help you move past the experiments.

After them were your sisters. Babs, Cass, and Steph would let you in to girls night this time. You would get to watch those cringy 'reality' TV shows, take part in the fashion show, and play around the whole night. Than in the morning Babs would help the boys take out the experiments. Cass and Steph would be right there with them of course before teaching you how to defend yourself.

Alfred would also help you. He would tutor you and help you catch up on school you missed. Not running off to help the others. Just you too bonding. Maybe he would even read the Wizard of Oz to you. Just he promised when you were five.

Lastly, your father Bruce Wayne. He would finally pay attention to you. Postpone his business meetings, decline the galas, take a night off from patrol as Batman because his baby girl was home. The last remaining shred of your mother and his lover. You would be important enough for him.

You blinked as your hand touch cold metal. The front door. Right you must have gotten lost in thoughts again. You could feel every hope you tucked into the hidden part of you heart over the past two years creep out of the shadows. They started to clean the cobwebs out of and prepare the space for warmth.

The door creaked up to a dreary entrance hall. You couldn't put your finger on what made the space feel dark. Sunlight still pour through the grand windows. There wasn't a speck of dust anywhere to be seen. Yet there was a weight in the air that made the room feel empty and wrong. It looked and felt as if you had never left.

You began to wonder the halls in search of anyone. The quiet pressed down on your shoulders and feet. You never had thought you would miss the continuous buzz of medical equipment you couldn't name. Yet that seem better the suffocating silence that was clawing at you. You heard a faint noise from the living room.

Sitting in the living room was Tim, Steph, and Jason. Tim was texting on his phone, Jason was reading, and Steph was eating popcorn as she watched a show. It was normal.

Completely normal.

It was as if you hadn't disappeared for two years. Steph turned to look at you, a fistful of popcorn suspended mid-air, "Hey. How you doing?"

"I'm..." Your throat felt like gum. Her reaction was disappointing? Confusing? You couldn't think of the right word, "fine."

"That’s good." She turned back to the TV. Conversation over. Tim and Jason didn't even look up from what they were doing. You shuffled to the next room in a daze.

The kitchen felt like it had also barely changed. There were some new appliances but they sat where the old ones had. Dick and Cass leaned against the center island enjoying steaming cups of something. Cass turned to nod at you and Dick smiled at brightly, "Hey (Name). It's been a minute, how you doing?"

Your head tilted to the side. Two years had to be more than 'a minute'. A weight began to push against the hopes in your heart. They slowed their cleaning, a few began to retreat back to the darkness. You blinked twice before answering, "Fine. Where... where's dad?"

"Oh I think B had a business trip this week. He'll be back Tuesday." Dick shrugged before someone walked into the kitchen. Someone new. He was taller than Cass and shorter than Dick but not by much. He was also young, you would bet a few years younger than Tim. Dick gave him an even brighter smile, "Hey Duke."

"Who's this?" You pointed at him and blinked. Was a friend of Tim's? Maybe Steph?

"Oh, you two weren't introduced. Duke this is-" Dick patted Duke on the shoulder gesturing to you.

"(Name)"

"Duke Thomas. Alfred didn't mention anyone else living in the manor." Duke gave you a friendly smile and held out his hand. You shook it but could feel your head spinning. This didn't make sense.

"Alfred didn't mention me?" The words felt blocky. It was like you were a computer shutting down. Not only was everyone acting normal, there was a new person and it seemed like they knew you were gone. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well. I... I'm gonna go... lie down."

"Oh, okay." Duke's face scrunched up. He looked as confused as you felt. You left the kitchen dazed, clinging to the hall as your feet stumbled to your bedroom.

Something wasn't right. Why was everyone acting like you had just gone on a trip? You were gone for two years. Ripped out of the garden and held captive for two years in horrifying conditions. Submitted to endless hours of shocks, shots, burns, and twisted wires to a point it all blend into a red flim in your memory. All that before finally escaping just to have everyone act like you had been on vacation.

Your thoughts were interrupted with a sudden harsh shove. A hand gripped your shoulder tightly creating temporary bruises on your skin. Ringing took over the cacophonous noise in your head. As you looked at your attacker you saw a boy. He wasn't that much taller or older than you. His mouth moved and you barely registered his words, "Who are you? How did you get into the manor?"

Something froze. This boy looked like a copy of your dad. There was a feeling of having all the puzzle pieces but no way to connect them. The bigger picture so blurred you couldn't tell what was supposed to go where. A voice broken the silence, "Master Damian! Unhand her this insistence."

Alfred. Surely he knew what was going on. He could tell you why everyone was acting like you were on vacation instead of kidnapped, or who this new boy was and why he looked like your dad.

The boy looked to Alfred but his hand didn't leave your shoulder, "Who is she and how did she bypass the manor's security?"

"She is your half sister." Alfred marched towards you. Taking Damian's hands from you, he placed himself in between you two. "She has been away at a boarding school for the past two years."

The pieces clicked with a deafening pop. Boarding school. It made sense now why everyone was so causal. You weren't kidnapped in their eyes, you had simply been sent away. Your coming back was expected on some level.

Another realization hit shortly after that. Boarding schools ment tuition payments that were expected to be paid by 'loving parents' who knew where there children were. Boarding school explained when a kid was missing from a wealthy for a period of time to those who would care to ask. A boarding school was the perfect cover for experiments in a highly secured facility.

Surely your dad wouldn't do that, right? He's Batman, a protector of the city. Someone who was ment to be moral and a role model. More importantly, you were what remained of your mother. The last piece of her and your dad's picture book romance. The billionaire CEO that falls in love with his secretary. This had to be a misunderstanding or miscommunication.

Damian's voice cut through your thoughts, again. "How old are you?"

"What?" The question was mis-timed and absurd to be asked immediately after he attacked you.

"I must ensure I am still the eldest blood child and father's heir." He said it so matter of fact like. As if he already knew the answer but wanted to confirm it.

"Ten."

"Hmm. We are the same age." He glared at you through Alfred before lifting his chin, "Date of birth."

"You first." You hated this boy already. He was as self-righteous and arrogant as the scientists in that damn place. Defiance crackled in your veins at the thought. You would not answer anymore questions from him.

"Both of you, stop it. Miss (Name) was born on (DOB) the year after you. You are older but not by much. Master Damian was born on November 11th" Alfred said the words and there was another pop.

"I'm going to my room." You didn't care what was said after that. It was like a wildfire started in your heart. Consuming the oxygen in your lungs to breath was impossible. You could feel them dying. Your hopes, succumbing to the flames, burning away to ash. Some part of you tried to save them with hot tears. It was already too late.

Your room felt like a tomb tucked away in the attic. A thin layer of dust coated everything, telling you not even Alfred bothered to come up here. Good, you wanted to be alone.

The numbers ran in your head again. Than once more. They raced through your head, years, timelines, before finally settling. In order for you and Damian to be born by those dates, your father had to be cheating on your mother with his. That or Bruce had used your mother to get over Damian's. You stumbled towards your dusty bed and fished around underneath it. Pulling out your mother's diary you began to skim the pages.

Swirls flew past your fingers. Finally you they ran over her cursive letters. "Bruce mentioned a woman name Talia. He talked about her with a mix of longing and betrayal. I wonder what happened?" There it was. The crack in your mother's love story, Talia.

Maybe it had been a whirlwind romance for your mother. Her diary was proof of that but your father. No, you couldn't prove she was important to him and by proxy you. Maybe you were so unimportant, unwanted, he could hand you other to those scientists and tell everyone it was a boarding school. All you had to do was prove it and burn him down.

Talia would never admit that she check on Damian frequently. No if anyone asked she was ensuring he followed his training regime. That didn't stop the surprise however to see a girl his age approach the manor gates.

She carried herself with a purpose but lack all the tells of training. Yet that wasn't what held Talia's attention, it was her eyes. They held a cautious fire and moved like she expected it be put out at any moment. It caused Talia's sixth sense to kick in, the one that told her this girl had potential that just need to be refined.

She followed her into the manor. Sure the security system was a pain but she need more information on this girl. When Damian shoved the girl into the wall Talia became certain of two things. One Damian was upholding his training and two this girl did have potential.

She didn't flinch at the knife to her throat. Talia doubted it even registered as a small amount of blood came out. When the butler interfered, Talia almost missed it. The wound sealed shut and the blood evaporated to leave no trace of a wound. Yes, this girl had potential.

"(Name) Wayne. Hmm, I've always wanted a daughter."

Next

[rafeandonlyrafe]

morning cravings

words: 1.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, mentions of past hookups and drinking, semi public sex

you pull out your phone and quickly type out a message to rafe.

im coming over. unlock the door for me.

you push your feet into your tennis shoes before he even texts back.

i was about to hop in the shower

i don't care. my coffee machine broke and im dying without my caffeine 

you grab your bag before heading out the door, crossing the street to rafes house, having lived next to him your entire life.

“hey.” you mumble as rafe opens the door for you. you don't even look around as you enter, knowing his house like the back of your hand.

“wheezie just bought some new syrups if you want to try them out.” rafe says before retreating out of the kitchen, knowing you'll be in a bad mood until you have a mug of hot coffee in your hand.

you don't put much care into your first cup, drinking it black and gulping half down before adding some syrups and milk.

you sip slower now, padding around the house and it's many rooms until you find rafe.

“thanks.” you tell him. “where is everyone?”

“probably asleep still.” rafe says. he knows you always get up early, and he's adjusted his schedule throughout the years to fit with yours.

“hm.” you hum out, taking another sip of the bitter coffee before setting it down on the side table. “do you think we have time to fuck?”

“i-” rafe sits up suddenly, straightening out his previously slumped position. “what?”

“remember that time we hooked up?” you question, moving with confidence to sit on rafes lap, placing your knees on the couch cushion on either side of his thighs.

“we were both blacked out though. i thought for the sake of our friendship we agreed to not-”

you cut rafe off by surging forward and pressing your lips against his. “i want you. now.”

rafe doesn't question it. if he did you'd probably admit that your vibrator frustratingly died on you last night and wouldn't charge, leading to your pent up attitude.

rafe kisses you harshly, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in flush to his body while his other hand comes to the back of your head, holding you close as his lips attack yours.

“fuck, we don't have much time though.” rafe says, breathing faster already as his muscular chest rises and falls.

“i want you right here.” you reach down and pet your palm over rafes crotch, feeling his length harden under the plaid pajama pants material. “we can fuck again later in your room, but i need you to make me cum right now.”

“okay.” rafe tries to stay listening to the stairs, waiting for a creak to tell him to stop, but the second your hand moves under the hem of his pants, all is forgotten.

you pull his cock out, wrapping your hand around his length as you stroke up and down, grinding yourself down against his thighs to get you even wetter than you already are.

“take your shorts off.” rafe says, hand coming to your ass and giving it a squeeze, a smile growing on his face when you get off his lap only to turn and have your bum face him as you pull down your shorts and underwear, bearing your pussy to rafe.

you expect him to let you turn around and ride him, use his body if he doesn't feel like helping, but suddenly your thighs are being spread by long slender fingers and rafes mouth is on your cunt.

you moan out probably too loudly and lean forward to place your hands on the coffee table as rafes tongue swipes through your folds, tasting all the juices and wetness that has accumulated.

“god.” you whine, pushing your hips back against rafes face. “don't stop.”

you feel his mouth drop slightly to reach your clit, his lips wrapping around your bud as he sucks. 

your fingers dig into the wooden table as you moan out again, trying to keep yourself from screaming as you grind back against his face.

rafe eats you out for as long as he will allow himself while in the living room. he stands suddenly, tongue licking at your wetness covering his lips.

before you can stand or turn, rafes cock is pressed against your entrance, his hands on your hips.

“fuck me rafe.” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. “fuck me hard.”

you don't have to tell rafe twice as he sinks into you, both letting out curses at the sudden intense pleasure.

rafe pauses for just a moment, somewhat to let you adjust but more so to allow himself a deep breath and refocus on not cumming too soon despite your cunt clutching his cock, seemingly sucking his length deeper inside of you.

“so fucking-” rafe gasps. “warm and wet.”

you open your mouth to respond with some quip when rafe begins to thrust, pounding into you with abandon, not treating you like you've been his best friend since kindergarten but like a whore he's having a one night stand with.

it makes you regret not giving in to the lust sooner as rafes hand reaches around your midsection and his fingers find your clit, strumming it with rhythm in time with his hips.

“we're doing this more often.” you tell rafe, who nods in agreement despite you facing away from him, he can't find his words at the moment.

“god, your cock is big.” you moan out. you remember the hookup somewhat despite telling rafe the next day you didn't, but a cock like his leaves an impression even in a completely blacked out drunk mind.

rafes fingers pinch at your clit, smiling as he feels your pussy grip his cock tighter every time.

the one hand on your hip is grabbing you so tightly you're sure to be bruises, but you just want rafe to cover you completely, marking you as his.

“im-im not gonna last much longer.” rafe says. 

“rub me faster.” you command, eyes squeezing shut as you focus on the high building inside of you, wanting to cum at the same time as rafe.

his cock swells inside of you, pushing even further against your walls as your orgasm suddenly breeches as you cum with a gasp and a cry of rafes name.

you let out a whine when rafe suddenly pulls out, his cum spurting across your bum as he jacks himself off.

“the fuck?” you ask, turning around. “i wanted you to cum inside of me!”

“i-i-” rafe stutters, his eyes widening.

“come on.” you groan, pulling your shorts back on and grabbing your sullied, wet underwear. “you can make it up to me in your room.”

you make sure to grab your coffee before heading up the stairs.

[paroxysmaljune]

i sincerely believe you cannot judge a person by their texting style online. dont get me wrong i absolutely understand reading too much into messages but.. sometimes im just not feeling it you know? sometimes i text very flatly because i dont have the energy to do much else. and my friends are chill with that which im grateful for but i wish 'their texting style isnt emotive' wasnt seen as such a damning thing. sometimes you just dont feel like being enthusiastic. that doesnt mean youre loved or loving any less

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

LU Four headcanons + Minish cap thoughts

EDIT: HELP I DIDNT MEAN TO POST THIS YET💀 fuck it we ball

So I've been playing minish cap and I'm having a great time it's so fucking whimsical and lovely everybody ever should play it right now but it made me realise how little?? Minish cap stuff gets mentioned in linked universe??? like where is my funny little figurine collection I spent thousands of shells on, where is my cute minish lore, where is my cane of pacci, where are my KINSTONES!!!

Anyways this is basically me nerding out over Minish cap and sharing my new silly little thoughts on Four (and spreading my new knowledge to the fic writers please there is so much untapped potential here you dont understand😭)

I've never done this before so bare w me

Starting w KINSTONES

So much of this is kinstones why does nobody talk about them I've read hundreds of LU fics and did not even know they existed till I played minish cap

I think Four has just SO. MANY. KINSTONES.

He just has a bag of random kinstone pieces on him at all times

Imagine the chain all sitting around the fire one day and fours like "anybody wanna match kinstones?" And the others stare at him like... "bro what is even that 😭"

Another funny idea, he just goes through his bag and starts trying to match the pieces he has, one actually works and a chest just appears next to the chain and four is like "aw hell yeah that's some good luck"

Everybody else "four how did you just SUMMON TREASURE"

"Got lucky :]"

Imagine hes not even really known as a hero in his home town but as the kinstone guy™

They go to Fours hyrule and little kids will just come up to him like ",,kinstone,,?" And he will just whip out the biggest bag of kinstone pieces and grab the exact one needed to match

It's like a magic trick

Desperately need some good luck? Talk to the kinstone guy hes gotchu

Imagine the colors all get their own bags

He just has four bags of kinstones at all times (maybe five if they have a community pile)

(There are more at home)

Also animals? Can have kinstones?? I feel there is comedy potential in that

Four has a collection of silly little figurines he paid thousands of mysterious shells for and I need somebody to talk about it

He has over A HUNDRED SILLY LITTLE FIGURINES

I dont know what to do with this knowledge but it is important to me that people know that

Cane of pacci.

CANE OF PACCI

Please its concept is so fucking funny people need to use it more.

(I've seen it a few times but NOT ENOUGH!!)

Imagine dink shows up and gives an evil monologue and everyone is having an intense stare down and four just discreetly grabs his cane and zaps dink w it and he just fucking flips upside down smacks his head on the ground and passes out

LIKE PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT

Theres a hole in the ground and he just zaps it and jumps in and rolls around and fucking flings himself into the air

I've seen so many fics where Four can just shrink down at will and that's fine I like em but in game you have to use minish portals and it's a whole thing

And I've seen people utilizing portals which I love

But I need more funny moments so

In game they are so very inconvenient and some are so fucking funny to me

Four just walks into a house flips this beautiful, giant vase, upside down jumps on top and becomes smol

Like??😭 going into people houses and breaking their pots is a link tradition but just... flipping one upside down is for some reason incredibly hilarious to me

Or running head first into a tree using pegasus boots to reveal a portal

Somebody do something w these portals they are so incredibly good

Also piccori are SMALL

They are TINY

When I imagined the minish I was picturing a lil guy the size of my thumb maybe a little smaller

NO

THESE BITCHES THINK ACORNS ARE BIG!!

THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY TINY!

MINISCULE!

I dont know what to do with that I just desperately needed to share

Imagine the picori lore potential yall

I've seen a few good ones but I NEED MORE LITTLE GUYS

Fours hyrule has a whole lotta beliefs and traditions about the minish me thinks

I mean they already have a festival about them

So imagine-

They find chips on the walls of their homes that are neatly shaped and nicely trimmed and they leave them, they take it as good luck, the picori are staying here

You see many of such spots in someone's home and you take them as kind, the picori stay with them

I think they abide by leaving picori paths

Random small planks connecting homes and making paths too small to walk are left where they are

If a plank starts decaying they leave a similar sized one nearby and the next day find the old one replaced and a kinstone lying nearby

If your flower pots neatly lined in a row suddenly have a small gap between two, keep it, the picori are passing by here

I think they make spaces in their homes for them

I think Four would go out of his way to leave space for the picori in his

Maybe he makes little houses he keeps in his yard or on a shelf or on the rafters or all of the above

Maybe he leaves out food in odd places and when it disappears he finds treasures somewhere nearby

He basically has a whole neighborhood of minish living in and around his house

I think Four has actually learned minish

Like yes he used the jabbernut to understand them initially but I think he went out of his way to properly learn it

And there are canonically different dialects, lil tidbit courtesy of Ezlo, so maybe hes learned multiple versions of minish

Imagine the funny moments where he just fucking starts saying smth in minish like "pico pipi pori co" and the chain stare at him and he just stares back like 'what?' "WHAT DOES PICOROCOPOIPO MEAN,??"

Hes just spent too much time as a tiny guy

[delta-piscium]

Steddie | 1.7k words it is (swedish) midsummer so I wrote this based on my favorite old tradition because I can and will make anything steddie, so like glad midsommar (happy midsummer)

“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he follows Eddie to the hallway where he’s frantically putting on his shoes. 

“I almost forgot,” he mutters under his breath not acknowledging Steve at all.

“Forgot what?” 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot.” 

“Eddie,” Steve says a little louder, more adamant.

He does look up at Steve then and almost looks surprised to see him. As if he’d forgotten he was there, as if they haven’t been hanging out for hours. 

“Oh,” he says. “Uhm,” he squints at Steve who waits for him to continue, to explain. He doesn’t.

“Yes?” Steve implores because he would really like an explanation. Eddie had just abruptly stood up halfway through telling Steve about some folklore he’s using in his new campaign, just cut himself off mid-sentence and walked off. Steve doesn’t think it’s especially weird or demanding of him to have questions. 

“Did you have other plans that you just now remembered?” Steve frowns, starting to feel unsure when Eddie still isn’t saying anything. It’s just past eleven at night and Steve doesn’t know what plans those would be but he had showed up unannounced earlier in the evening so it’s not impossible that Eddie had plans that Steve interrupted. 

“No, no, no,” Eddie assures him finally breaking his silence, “it’s- okay it’s a little silly but I read this thing researching and I want to try it.” 

And well, okay then.

Steve raises his eyebrows and waves his hand gesturing for Eddie to go on. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light pink and he resolutely looks somewhere above Steve’s shoulder instead of at him. 

“Midsummer, which is today, is supposed to be this magical night and there are all these traditions and old myths about it.” 

Eddie glances at Steve and he smiles. Tries to show he’s listening and wants to know whatever thing Eddie read about. 

“And well, okay so there’s this one tradition where you pick seven different kinds of flowers before you go to bed and then put them under your pillow and you’re supposed to dream about who you’re gonna spend your life with.” 

Steve blinks, wasn’t expecting that and doesn’t know what to say about it, so, he blinks again. 

“Maybe it’s dumb, but with all we’ve seen magic and folklore don’t seem so far-fetched and,” he shrugs, “I wanna try. And like, it’s close to midnight and I don’t know if that’s a rule but I don’t wanna risk messing it up.”

“It- huh,” Steve frowns slightly and looks at his shoes then back at Eddie. “Yeah alright, let’s do it. Can’t hurt right?” 

His voice is light, like it’s not a big deal and just a fun thing Eddie read about because that’s what it is, isn’t it? But something about it settles deep in Steve’s gut. Makes it feel important in a way he’s not sure he could explain if he tried. Maybe it’s just the fact that Eddie is getting so worked up about the possibility of dreaming about the person he’s gonna spend his life with when Steve maybe a little bit wishes it would be him, but like, only a little. 

Eddie looks at him with wide eyes like he didn’t expect Steve to want to join, like maybe he expected Steve to make fun of him for wanting to do it. But then something seems to switch in him and a slow smile spreads over his face and he gives Steve an exaggerated once over. 

“Looking to find your true love huh, Harrington?” 

“I thought you said it was the person you spend your life with, not the same as true love necessarily.” Steve quips back because technicalities are easier to argue over than answering that question, especially when Eddie is the one asking.

Eddie shrugs. “Different sources say different things, sometimes it’s true love sometimes it’s who you marry.” 

“Well, then I guess we’re both looking to find our true loves?” Steve hedges, drags Eddie down with him if they’re gonna go there. 

A soft look passes Eddie’s face before a responds, voice quieter. “Guess we are, yeah.” 

They pick their flowers in silence, something about the magic being broken if you speak. Walking around the edge of the woods behind Eddie’s trailer a couple of feet apart, every once in a while coming together or crossing paths. 

After, Steve stands in between Eddie’s trailer and his own car. Holding on to his bouquet of seven flowers unsure what to do. He could go home, he should go home, but he doesn’t want to. He did have some beers hours ago and if he was allowed to speak he’d use that as an excuse to not drive and ask Eddie to crash on his couch. Right now he can’t though so he sighs inwardly and turns to his car. 

He makes it about two steps before a hand reaches out and grips him around his free wrist stopping him. When he turns around Eddie is giving him a look that very clearly says ‘stop being stupid’ and jerks his head towards the trailer silently telling Steve to go with him. He doesn’t let go though and uses his grip on Steve to drag him along like he can’t be sure Steve will actually listen and follow. As if Steve would ever not follow Eddie. 

They quickly get ready for bed. And again when Steve walks toward the couch Eddie grabs him and shakes his head. He waves his arms around a bit like that’s supposed to explain anything but Steve isn’t too bothered about an explanation anyways and easily follows Eddie to his bedroom. 

They’ve shared a bed before but always when they’ve been drunk or high so this feels different. Steve is a little glad they can’t speak or he’s sure he’d blurt out something way too revealing about it all. 

He avoids looking at Eddie as he tucks his flowers in under his pillow, knows Eddie is doing the same next to him. Is aware of it only being an old myth from a region halfway across the world but there’s a weight to it. Something real and tangible. 

He expects it to take a while for him to fall asleep like it always does. For him to twist and turn and lay awake until the early morning. For once though, that doesn’t happen. With the weight of Eddie next to him and to the sounds of his soft breathing and small movements, Steve falls asleep.

And he dreams. He dreams of big brown eyes and bright laughter. Of wild hair and warm arms embracing him. He dreams of growing old next to someone and how every wrinkle on their face tells a story of their shared love. 

He wants to stay in the dream forever, desperately tries to hold onto it even as he floats into consciousness. He turns and groans, gets a mess of someone’s hair in his mouth and nose and that’s enough to startle him into full wakefulness. 

Eddie grumbles next to him, clearly also just waking up. Steve looks at him, with his wild hair and his big brown eyes that are slowly blinking open and of course. Of course, it was Eddie he dreamed about.

Their eyes meet and Eddie freezes. Eyes widening as he looks back at Steve. 

“Oh,” he says. 

And yeah, oh.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, unsure of how to bring it up, to ask about it. If he even should? 

He puts on a teasing smile, even though he feels like goo inside, but making it lighthearted is all he can think of because what if he’s taking this whole thing way too seriously? Jumping to conclusions? 

“Dream of anyone?” 

Eddie nods and looks away, “I did.” He says it simply, voice careful. 

And maybe it isn’t just Steve.

“Who?” He asks, dropping the teasing tone. 

Eddie swallows and looks back at Steve. “The person I wanted to dream of,” he says and it’s not really an answer but he’s looking at Steve so intently he thinks it still might be. 

He thinks about Eddie’s quiet but delighted surprise at Steve wanting to join him yesterday. About Eddie dragging him first into his trailer and then into his bed. How they’re so close on Steve’s side of the bed and Eddie must have drifted towards him in his sleep.

He bites his lip to stop his smile from spreading too wide, there’s still a chance he’s misinterpreting things, “yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And who would that be?” Steve asks, leaning in even closer until he feels Eddie’s small puffs of breath across his face. 

“You,” Eddie whispers but Steve hears it clearly. 

He takes a moment to bask in it, to let it wash over him before he responds.

“That’s good,” Steve tells him eventually and Eddie’s eyes are so wide and open, and so pretty, “because I dreamt of you.” 

He knows it’s cheesy so he doesn’t give Eddie time to respond, just leans in and closes the remaining gap between them. Slots their lips together. Eddie gasps into the kiss, grabs Steve by the hair, and pulls him in. Makes all these cute noises that make Steve want and want and want. 

He shifts, goes to put his leg in between Eddie’s to move on top of him and get a better angle. But he only gets halfway before Eddie grabs his hips and twists them around. Pushes Steve flat on his back and straddles him. 

He grins down at Steve. 

“You think the Scandinavian magic worked or was it just dream psychology and wishful thinking?” 

“Does it matter?” Steve asks, way too earnestly. But like, they’ve just spent this whole time doing some true love magic so he thinks it’s fine, “got what I wanted.” 

“It’s forever though,” Eddie points out, bending down to bite at Steve’s jaw, “if we believe the old Norse people.” 

Steve hears the question there, thinks this might be Eddie’s way of asking what this means to Steve. His way of telling Steve this isn’t just a hookup for him.

“God yeah,” Steve exhales, “I fucking hope so.” 

He feels Eddie smile into his neck and grabs his hair, uses it to pull him back and steer him into another kiss. 

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I was thinking last night about Midnights and how it’s conceived as these collection of sleepless nights and things that keep someone up until morning, and it hit me that it’s kind of like a collection of questions you’d ask yourself going through it. Like a series of “what ifs”, as we know is such an important theme in her discography in general (thanks @taylortruther for the regular reminders). So I kept thinking about what the overarching question would be throughout the album, and I feel like it makes Midnights even clearer as a concept to me.

(Disclaimer: I’m not saying these are the theses of the songs or anything. Just the things that stuck out to me.)

Lavender Haze: What if we stayed in this bubble?

Maroon: What if you hadn’t changed me forever?

Anti-Hero: What if my demons are who I am?

Snow on the Beach: What if this were real?

You’re On Your Own Kid: What if everything had been worth it for this?

Midnight Rain: What if I’d stayed?

Question…?: What if you’d stayed?

Vigilante Shit: What if they got what they deserved? (Derogatory)

Bejeweled: What if I know?

Labyrinth: What if it worked this time?

Karma: What if I got what I deserve? (affectionate)

Sweet Nothing: What if this is all I need?

Mastermind: What if I’m all we need?

The Great War: What if we actually made it?

Bigger than the Whole Sky: What if I hadn’t lost you?

Paris: What if we escaped the world?

High Infidelity: What if I hadn’t fled?

Glitch: What if we beat the odds and stick together after all?

Would’ve, Could’ve Should’ve: What if I’d never let you have me?

Dear Reader: What if you saw me for who I really am?

[incorrectly-quoting-murderdrones]

Weird fanfic I wrote at 1am

Picture a worker drone who’s read way too many trashy fantasy romance novels where the knight saves the princess from the terrifying monster. For comedy’s sake I’m calling them YN.

YN visits Outpost 3 with a caravan of other drones who have come to trade goods with the colony now that it’s safe for them to travel around outside. YN initially came along in hopes of finding the next book in their favorite medieval fantasy series. However, they had another goal in mind.

You see, the entire fight between Uzi and the Solver was no small event. The tremors from the planet were felt all across the globe. Eventually, stories began to spread about murder drones and a tiny worker who ended the evil. Unfortunately, not all of them were completely factual. Warped through word of mouth, YN’s colony had begun hearing rumors about “the tiny worker girl” and “the gigantic murder drone” that had supposedly taken her captive instead of killing her. The stories described the girl as short, smaller than normal workers, and as beautiful as the sunset with intelligence to match. The murder drone, however, was described as being anywhere from 6-8 feet tall with sharp teeth and claws stained black from the oil of his many kills. Supposedly they had first met under the moonlight on a clear evening. The Murder Drone had been planning to eat her, but saw her beauty under the pale moonlight and was immediately enraptured. He instead kidnapped the girl with the plans to make her his monster bride.

As overexaggerated as they were, YN was excited when they heard the rumors. This was just like one of their novels but with the worker girl as the princess and the murder drone as the terrible dragon keeping her captive. All she needed was a knight to slay the dragon and sweep her off her feet into a happily ever after. YN knew fighting a murder drone was a tall order, but where else were they going to get the chance to finally be one of the dashing knights they so revered?

The first thing YN noticed upon arrival to Outpost 3 was the pile of corpses stacked high into the sky. “That must be the dragon’s lair!”-they thought in excitement.

Now YN wasn’t stupid, at least they didn’t think so. They knew unarmed combat with a powerful murder drone was a death sentence. So in anticipation, they made preparations. Snuck along with their luggage, they brought sets of steel plates, each one perfectly tailored to fit their body and protect their vital areas as well as a much bigger, thicker plate with a leather handle that would serve as a shield. However there was something even more special in their stash. YN heard from stories that the fair maiden was incredibly brilliant and quite the engineer, so they thought they’d take a page out of her book in order to impress her. With painstaking trial and error, they had fashioned themselves a sword of untold power. The blade itself was a striking silver, with the sharp ends curving out before extending into a serrated point tipped with the a stinger and a canister of murder drone acid they found while scrounging the night markets for parts. The handle had an elegantly carved wrist guard, jagged and spiked to prevent being grabbed. Finally, after hearing about the murder drones weakness to sunlight, they attached UV lights to the exterior. YN’s sword was their pride and joy and was sure to destroy the dragon!

But right now it was nighttime when the dragon would be at its most active. If they wanted to pull this off, they’d have to crafty and sneaky. Breaking into the spire in the daylight while the beast was asleep would be the smartest option.

While waiting for the Sun to rise, YN took the opportunity to check out Outpost 3. The bunker wasn’t too different from their own, but signs of fighting and claw marks indicated it saw much more battle. Definitely a murder drone.

YN decided to ask around to gather information about the beast and the girl he stole. They need to be sure what she looks like after all! Eventually, YN bumped into a worker girl with wavy greenish blue hair and light blue eyes who introduced herself as Rachel.

When YN recited the legend to her, she had seemed confused at first before suddenly lighting up in recognition. Rachel was all too happy to fill in some of “details” of the tragic kidnapping of the Doorman’s only child: a timid, anxious young woman named Uzi with hair and eyes the color of fresh spring grapes who had sadly been too terrified to run away when the murder drone stole her, killing her best friend and Rachel’s sister Rebecca. Rachel confirmed that she was kept in the beast’s nest way up high in the rafters of the spire where he would do just the most awful things to her. YN almost turned and ran to go immediately find Uzi, but Rachel quickly stopped him.

“Oh and be careful!” She warned, “I’ve heard that that dastardly beast has done something to mind control her. If the poor dear tries to defend herself or the beast, don’t believe her words!”

At those words, YN turned and ran back to their room in the caravans, missing the evil gleam in Rachel’s eyes.

Carefully, YN crept into the den. It was…it was! It was surprisingly homey? A large nest made of blankets and fabrics and anything else soft likely pillaged from nearby apartments spanned the space of the floor. The walls were covered in pictures and childish crayon scribble drawings. Fairy lights, powered by a cable leading who knows where, adorned the ceiling.

In the center of the nest however, was a far less homey sight. There laid a large male murder drone, at least 6 feet in height, clothed in a black trench coat and a pilots’ hat. He was curled around something, clutching it in his grip while blanketing it with his large metal wings.

YN tiptoed around the nest to get a better angle and spotted the his princess! While shockingly alternative for drone that was supposed to be timid and maidenly, she was exceptionally beautiful even if her odd purple-yellow gradient eyes did give them pause. Like the murder drone, she was curled up and asleep.

Poor girl, forced to sleep next to a monster!

YN took a deep breath and readied their sword, prepared to stab the foul dragon as he slept.

YN crept closer to the sleeping beast, but as they shuffled forward, they failed to notice the empty oil can under their foot.

A loud crrnk echoed through the room.

YN’s core started thumping hard as the loud noise startled both drones awake.

YN stood straight and firm as the murder drone got to his feet. Spotting the armored worker, a confused look crossed his visor before he perked up and spoke.

“Oh hi! I’m so sorry, we weren’t expecting any visitors today!”

The beast can talk?!

“My name is N, can I help you with something?”

YN was speechless as their processors tried to decode the fact that the 6’6” hunk of metal made of death and nightmare fuel just greeted him like a welcome houseguest.

YN steeled themselves. Remember the stories! The monster was obviously just playing friendly to catch them off guard so he could eat them!

YN pointed his sword at N, “Foul beast, I have come to end your reign of tyranny and free the precious maiden Uzi from your foul grasp!!”

Unfortunately, N seemed more confused than intimidated.

“Tyranny? Maiden? Is this one of those dragon dungeon games Uzi and Thad keep telling me about?”

“What?! No!!! I’ve come to kill you and rescue the poor worker girl you kidnapped to become your bride!”

N opened his mouth to protest but YN wasn’t about to let a villain monologue. They launched themselves forward, swinging their sword directly at the base of his head. N quickly sidestepped them, switching his hands for claws as he raised them up in caution.

“Woah there Buddy! Are you sure you really want to do this?”

Was that a threat? So the beast finally shows his true colors!

YN growled and kept swiping at the taller drone. Eventually, N was able to catch the blade with his hands and hold it in place.

“You villain! You’re nothing but a monster: killing Rachel’s sister and stealing her best friend to become your wife! I was told of her timid and anxious nature and her gentleness! How could you terrify her like that?! I will avenge Rachel’s sister and bring Uzi home!”

“Who the FUCK are you calling timid and anxious? And what stories?!”

YN turned their head to the female drone, who decided to finally speak up.

“Lady Uzi, I was told the story of the short drone girl who was captured by a tall murder drone beast and-“

“Dude, shut up.” Uzi looked furious. “I was having a nice nap with my N in our nice den when you decided to wake us up with your weirdass medieval roleplay shtick!”

“I-“

“And then you decided to swipe that admittedly badass sword at the love of my life and accuse him of kidnapping me?!”

YN couldn’t believe what they were hearing. The small worker girl, the perfect princess to their story, was acting nothing like the maiden they had imagined! She just cussed them out!

Uzi continued, showing no signs of noticing-or caring about-the confusion writing itself across YN’s visor.

“First off, Bite Me! There’s no way I’d ever let myself get kidnapped to become some random disassembler’s trophy wife! Second off, I killed Rebecca, not N, and she sure as hell was not my friend. Rachel can shove her lies up her—“

At the mention of Rachel, YN remembered something important. Didn’t she say that the beast had mind controlled her?!

“—and thirdly-“

Before Uzi could finish, YN shoved her back towards the entrance with their shield and activated the UV lights on their sword. N howled in pain as the light seared and burned his arms and hands, letting go of the sword. YN acted quickly, severing his leg at the knee and the arm that was about to switch out for a gun.

“Any last words?”

N winced in pain but looked up at them and smirked, “Your stories got it wrong. The big, tall murder drone from your story isn’t the beast.”

“Oh? Then who is?”

N pauses before a massive grin splits his face.

“My wife”

As YN went to swing at his head, violent purple light surrounded their sword and shield, wrenching them out of their hands.

YN quickly turned around.

How could they be so foolish.

That tiny purple worker girl was no pure maiden.

Fleshy wings and a tail with eyes and teeth erupted from her back. Three grotesque fleshy but metallic tentacles shot out next, pinning YN to the wall and stabbing right through their abdomen.

“Wait, please, I didn’t mean—“

Their pleading was cut off as Uzi’s solver ripped their head off. The last thing YN saw was their romantic fantasy turned into horror.

[faynthearted]

(for @traceytries, who wanted even more angst after the recent update <3)

The only thing worse than being forgotten is being remembered at your worst. So that’s how Guan Shan chooses to remember him.

The violence, the force. The vile demands and blatant disregard for anyone but himself. He Tian was selfish and cruel and sadistic. He exploited every weakness. He abused every advantage. He brought out the worst in people. He brought out the worst in Guan Shan.

And here’s the difference: Guan Shan shoots to kill, but He Tian shoots to wound. He wants to watch the bleed-out, the suffering. He wants to hold the tourniquet and let his victim think he might change his mind and save them. And maybe he would. Maybe he would give them that hope, something to latch onto. He would wrap the tourniquet around their limb, but he wouldn’t tie it tight enough. He would pretend he did, though. He would smile—

No. He would smirk. Because that’s who he is, Guan Shan reminds himself, removing the lid of the empty box. He Tian’s outward gestures only ever served to feed back into himself. He did nice things so that people would think he’s a nice person. He performed acts of selflessness so that people would feel indebted to him. He feigned sympathy so that people would trust him with their weaknesses — and then he’d feed on them.

Guan Shan folds in the jacket’s sleeves and stuffs it to the bottom of the box.

And all the gifts? Those were only assurances. Messages turned to material. He Tian had a point to prove with these fucking earrings and that point was that he was the only one allowed to control Guan Shan. He forced Guan Shan to wear the first pair before he knew anything about She Li. He bought Guan Shan this second pair to stake claim on something that was never his.

Guan Shan tosses the broken earrings and piercing kit into the box.

And He Tian could never just be straight-forward, could he? Everything was always a game to him; a test of who could hold out longer. But the playing field was never level. He Tian raised threats and stakes and pressure until his opponents found themselves farther from the goal line than where they started. They never remembered how they got there, but they knew it had something to do with the figure standing at the finish line, tall and dressed in black and waving with arrogance and smiling—

Smirking, Guan Shan corrects himself, jaw clenched as he drops the handwritten note in the box, because He Tian’s smiles were never real. They were never genuine. His smiles were manipulations, false hopes, performances. He Tian only ever smiled at things — at people — for two reasons: to pity them or to warn them.

And his smiles never lasted long, anyway. They were fleeting and insignificant, just like his presence in Guan Shan’s life. Guan Shan can hardly even remember them now. They weren’t worth remembering.

He reaches for the next item in the pile. It’s smooth. Thin.

He turns over the polaroid.

And, suddenly, he remembers.

The way He Tian’s eyes pinched at the corners. The way he’d always tilt his head up. Sometimes, when he was especially amused, his cheeks would turn the slightest shade of pink. And when his eyes weren’t squinted or closed from laughter, they were bright and warm. His gaze would linger. His touch would soften. Guan Shan always thought he offered his smiles too freely to someone who rarely returned the favor. He Tian never seemed to care about the waste.

But even now, long after his leaving, Guan Shan continues to waste He Tian’s smile. It’s permanent, frozen in time, held in his hand. Guan Shan stares at it in a way he never dared to when He Tian stood in front of him. He traces smile lines. Pink lips. Stray hairs.

Two minutes in, his eyes start to burn from a lack of blinking. Five minutes in, his eyes start to swim as he curls at the waist, holding back a strange noise that lodges in his throat. The room’s walls close in on him. His chest heaves from a pain that sears through him like a chemical burn.

If He Tian was here, he’d hold him. If he was here, he’d murmur quiet comfort to him. If he was here—

If he was here—

Guan Shan’s trembling lets a tear escape, trailing down the bridge of his nose. It drips onto the floor next to the roll of white tape from his desk.

Breath hitching, Guan Shan reaches for it.

As he tears away a strip of tape, he reminds himself that he’ll only remember He Tian at his worst.

He’ll remember him at his worst as he places the strip over He Tian’s face.

He’ll remember him at his worst as he sticks another over his student ID, over his handwriting.

He’ll remember him at his worst as he seals the box with shaking hands, vision blurring, collapsing into himself on the floor.

He’ll remember him at his worst for the rest of his life.

But first he’ll have to forget He Tian at his best.

[amazingdeadfish]

It's Friday/Saturday so you know what that means

Baihe one shot for all of you LBD hostess enjoyers out there, should you have read the the BAV series.

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

post order 66 codywan governed by irrationality. cody is irrationally angry that obi wan didn’t look for him. even when he rationally knows that obi wan didn’t know he was alive, or even his reasons for staying on tatooine. obi wan is sometimes irrationally scared that cody might try to kill him again, even when he rationally knows that he is not the same man who tried the first time. does he fear that if this happens he might be forced to kill cody to protect luke and all he represents? or does he fear that he’d be unable to do this, that ultimately his love for cody would win over his loyalty to luke (to anakin)? does he fear being forced to choose? is cody guilty that he’s hiding whilst his brothers fight? that he failed to protect them earlier and now he’s failing them again?

[therewillbenoromance]

reasons i stay alive

friends

family

if i die i cant listen to chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to chonnys charming chaos compendium by chonny jash

if i die i wont be around to listen to cccc vol. 2 by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to the will wood power hour

if i die i wont be able to listen to the thd power hour

if i die i wont be able to listen to the chonny jash power hour

if i die i wont be able to listen to the tim minchin power hour by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to the before. by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to fine im fine by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to 20XX by chonny jash

of i die i wont be able to listen to gothic whore or the novel lyric hunt by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to the moss by cosmo sheldrake cover by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to aint no rest for the wicked by cage the elephant cover by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to heal by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to kk crushin by chonny jash

if i die i wont be able to listen to kk cruisin by chonny jash

[abnormal-vacuum]

09 ghost who’s very fixated on heartbeats and body heat, whenever he gets upset or scared he feels his pulse to confirm he’s still there and alive, 09 ghost who lies his head on mactavishs chest to hear his heartbeat and his breathing, who everytime they have a scare in the field checks his pulse, 09 ghost who hates having anything heavy on top of him because it makes him feel like he’s back in that coffin buried six feet under, 09 ghost who’s very claustrophobic and sometimes even afraid of the dark because on bad nights everything reminds him of when he was dead.

[taylorsabrina]

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO THEM AND THEM ONLY.

[sephrotting]

Errorink except it starts out as Geno and ___

Geno finds ___ in the antivoid and drags him with him. Even when he starts loosing it. Even when he lashes out.

Geno then goes completely still and transforms into Error. Looses his memories and leaves ___.

Ink then gets his paint. Makes his custom own au, gets proper vials. You know his origin story.

Then they meet again but in their new selves. Ink remembers both Geno and Error. And while Error may not be able to remember him (and acts quite erratically) Ink doesnt really know why, but he decides to hang out with him anyway. He is kind towards Error and Error doesn’t understand it. Ink doesnt care if he doesn’t remember, but Error feels like he’s forgetting something important.

Tragically, Error might never remember. And Ink will keep being kind to him anyway.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?